


Gray, Red, Black

by gearyoak



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, and all the stuff that goes with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearyoak/pseuds/gearyoak
Summary: The windows hadn’t been broken, and that had given him hope. Genji expressed several times over that that wasn’t something he should experience anymore. No matter how empty a home looked, how clean water seemed, or how unbroken a gas station’s windows were, McCree should never get his hopes up. Sometimes, following a hope got in the way of being smart, and being smart is what kept Genji alive for so long.





	

**Author's Note:**

> back by unpopular demand, it's the zombie apocalypse trope!!!! brought to you by ya boi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The windows hadn’t been broken, and that had given him hope. Genji expressed several times over that that wasn’t something he should experience anymore. No matter how empty a home looked, how clean water seemed, or how unbroken a gas station’s windows were, McCree should never get his hopes up. Sometimes, following a hope got in the way of being smart, and being smart is what kept Genji alive for so long.

“Seems like an awful pessimistic way of livin’, if you ask me,” McCree had told him.

“Pessimistic?” Genji’s eyes were focused on the road ahead of him, pulling the truck up onto the sidewalk in front of the gas station, but he still laughed. “You’ve met my brother, haven’t you?”

“I think I’d be safe in sayin’ you and him have the same outlook on life, he just got stuck with the bad sense of humor.” 

Genji laughed again, twisting the keys from the ignition and tossing them up onto the dash. “There are worse ways to live,” was what he ended up saying in his and his brother’s defense. “And quicker ways to die.”

The gas station showed no signs of a break in, but that was only because the building had been left unlocked. The shelves were relatively empty, the contents of garbage cans strewn across the floors, and the cash register forced open and picked clean. They weren’t worried on that front, not at that point yet, at least. The school still had a decent food stock from when the shelter had been running, and they had since learned to ration efficiently, but medicine was what they started to fret over. Days were getting shorter, and the weather harsher. The last thing they needed was a flu pandemic wiping out what was left of their group.

“Maybe this is why we get along so well, Jesse,” Genji said, moving a tattered piece cardboard idly with the end of his bat. “Because I am pessimistic, and you love to be proven wrong.”

McCree regarded him with a dismissive eye roll but otherwise chose to ignore him. “Any first-aid kit they’d’ve had would prol’ly be with the cleanin’ stuff. We should check out back for a supply closet.”

The freezers had been left open, but there was nothing left within to go bad or spoil. They checked each one briefly, just to ensure their emptiness. The most they found was a stained blanket, and a pair of children’s shoes. McCree shut the door to that freezer, and neither him or Genji made a comment.

Their search led them to the farthest side of the station to a closed door branded with a simple label of “CLOSET”.

“Think this’s it?” McCree asked with a grin, positioning himself on one side of the door. With one hand he gripped the doorknob – twisting it once to make sure it was unlocked – and in the other he held a knife.

Genji stepped back and away from the door. “No. They put the ‘CLOSET’ sign up there to fool us. We should keep looking.” 

“Maybe that’s what they wanted us to think.”

“Maybe. I’m ready when you are.”

The door didn’t screech on its hinges when McCree pulled it open, slow and steady as to not disturb whatever might be waiting for them. Inside was still and cluttered. Shelves lined either side of two walls, along with the few that were pushed to the middle of the room, creating a narrow square path that allowed passage throughout the closet. Each shelf was filled with different containers and bottles, some having leaked onto the concrete floor and leaving a nearly overbearing chemical odor behind. Push brooms and mops were leant up against a doorway on the opposite side of them, and above that door was an unlit exit sign. In one corner, a pile of plastic tarps.

No first-aid kit in sight, however.

Genji made a low noise, a sort of disappointed hum. “This doesn’t seem to follow fire safety regulations,” he said at first, offhandedly. Then he lowered his bat and added, “I’ll go search up front again. Maybe they kept it at the register.”

“Yeah. I’ll see if I can find anything outta this mess.”

They separate, but not before Genji squeezes at McCree’s hip wordlessly, and only after McCree returns the gesture with a quiet, “See ya soon.” They had made sure the building was empty, but things haven’t seemed to go anyone’s way as of late. There was always room to worry for each other.

Now that he was alone, the front of the store seemed more eerie in its silence. Through the trees, orange light filtered in and casted long, jagged shadows along every surface. Outside, a man shuffled onto the street, nearly tripping over some torn tire rubber before disappearing into the alley across the way.

Eerie, but peaceful, in the solemn way that is brought with the end of the world.

Genji hopped over the counter and landed in the midst of several Rice Krispies Treat wrappers. The foil crunched when he kicked them away absentmindedly and he didn’t pay them any attention afterward. He crouched and opened each cabinet one by one. They were small and it wasn’t likely for something to be hiding in there, but habits like those would die with him.

He found paper towels, Windex, rolls of receipt paper, a container of pens, paper bags, and no first- aid kit. The door to the last cabinet shut a little too forcefully, and Genji let out a weary sigh. There were worse outcomes to their run, but returning to the school empty handed wasn’t ideal either. Angela was an exceptional nurse and she worked brilliantly with what little they had, but some might call that luck and it was bound to run out at some point. The same could have been said about sending people out on these pointless searches. McCree and him will return with nothing that day, but what of when they send two or three more for a hopeless run? They go out for nothing and never come back.

Genji straightened suddenly, refusing to think about it further. There was one last hope; they haven’t checked the restrooms yet and it seemed promising at this point. Their last shot.

“Jesse,” he called toward the double doors, already heading for the entrance. “I’m going around and checking the bathrooms outside.”

McCree’s response came just before he pulled the glass door open, “Hold on, I’ll come with you. I ain’t findin’ shit in – “

The other’s voice was cut off by a crashing noise, like metal scraping against concrete, and then a thunderous crash. Genji was already moving by the time he heard McCree swearing, bursting through the double doors hard enough that the echo of them slamming against the walls resounded throughout the building.

The door labeled ‘CLOSET’ had been shut in the time it took Genji to reach it, and it shook and rattled, as if there was a struggle happening on just the other side. He twisted the knob and was met with the resistance of a lock. His fist pounded once against the wood and he cursed loudly, panicked. Kicking it down would take too much time, and he didn’t have enough room in the hallway to even attempt it.

Genji repeated his curse, tacking on a few more as he retraced his steps back to the entrance. The sun had set further, and the sky went from gold to grey. With it had come a chill, but Genji hardly paid it any mind, didn’t slow even when the cool air stung at his face. Racing around the gas station, passed the bathrooms, he didn’t stop until he was faced with the metal door he remembered from the closet.

“Don’t be locked,” he begged the rusted metal, and then pulled on its handle. There was a crunch of corrosion and it gave way a little, but remained stuck to its arch. Genji couldn’t hear anything on the other side. His breath rattled in his chest and he tugged again, “Fuck, _fuck_ – Jesse? I’m at the exit! I can’t – “ The door peeled open, swinging wide and nearly taking Genji with it. He stumbled back, steadying himself just barely and with yet another swear.

The closet was in worse shape than what he left it in. Shelves had toppled over, the chemicals that had been stacked on them now accumulating in puddles along the floor. The formation of the shelves was in disarray, one entire side of the square having been collapsed in a domino-esque fashion. Besides dripping of liquid, there was no noise. He was not hesitant to break the silence, rushing forward and around the corner with a type of reckless abandon. Even though his bat was still held in a white-knuckled grip, Genji’s thoughts were not on protection nor self-preservation. It was desperation, a need to find McCree, to get home, to lay in his own bed and ensure that he would have a cowboy to share it with.

He saw the plastic tarps on the floor and registered that they had been moved first, and that they were wet with something second, right after he stepped on one. Before he lost his footing, he latched on to one of the metal racks and threw his weight back onto the leg still on safe ground. The tarp under him shined with a red fluid, tinted deeply with brown and smelled heavily of bleach. Genji’s eyes followed the trail of plastic to where they had originally been piled in the corner, finding a circle of the same color dried into the concrete.

_Old blood,_ his brain supplied. _Not Jesse’s. Can’t be Jesse’s._ Carefully, Genji stepped over the tarp and the now empty Clorox container to continue onward.

McCree was sitting with his back pressed to the closet door when Genji found him. His expression was hidden to him as his head was bowed slightly, hair falling forward to shield his face. Genji didn’t need to see it to know what he was staring at.

Across from McCree laid a man, old and shriveled but most likely middle-aged when it died. The skin was brown and cracked along the edges of its ears, its eyes, and was simply missing around its mouth, but there was no mistaking the man it had been before. It wore khaki shorts and a polo half tucked in the front; an old corpse, from the beginning. There was a knife lodged into its chest – not McCree’s; his was dropped in between his bent legs, wet with black. Genji thought back to the children’s shoes in the freezer, this man who had been buried under a pile of tarps. He couldn’t imagine the story behind them, and he didn’t want to.

He knocked the familiar knife away and took its place, dropping down onto his knees in between McCree’s thighs. With shaking hands, he grabbed at the cowboy’s left arm and searched through the mess of blood for any scratches or bites, running his fingers along the rolled-up sleeve of McCree’s flannel. There were no tears in the fabric, so he moved on.

In the time it had taken him to repeat the process with the other arm, and then checked his torso and neck, McCree had yet to respond to him. His gaze went passed Genji, still somehow locked onto the body behind him. He wasn’t used to this, Genji knew. McCree had told him he had little to do with outside of the school until recently, only having helped keep the gates clear prior. Even then that was with a gun in his hand, a brick wall, and yards of distance in between; he hardly had any experience with lame brains up close.

Gently, Genji took both of McCree’s hands into his own. He lifted one, found an inch of skin that was clean of red, and pressed a kiss there. His mouth lingered when he heard McCree’s breath stutter out in one, long sigh. Tense shoulders relaxed as much as they could when he did the same to the other hand, the underside of his wrist, the crook of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. Finally, the cowboy shifted, and he pulled his hands from Genji’s to settle them at the younger’s waist.

“I’m fine, darlin’.”

Genji hummed and slumped forward until his forehead rested against McCree’s. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” he assured, closing his eyes. “What was that bastard doin’ under there, anyway?”

“I don’t know.”

They were allowed a few more moments of quiet peace until time caught up to them. The sun had just set, and the others were sure to be worrying about them. Genji never liked staying out passed dusk. He tilted his head so he could share another kiss, quick and chaste, one McCree could return. He whispered about how late it was, how Ana was sure to scold them for making her fret, and the cowboy laughed at that. Weakly, but genuine. Genji was glad to hear it.

With nothing to show for their troubles – besides new bruises – Genji and McCree retreated to the truck. It started up without a hassle, and the rumble of the engine drew out the man Genji had seen meander into the alley earlier. Death seemed to follow them everywhere, in more ways than one, but he was able to drive passed it this time. It screamed and reached for them with grayed hands, but its pace didn’t quicken – couldn’t quicken. It wouldn’t catch them, not today.

Genji reached over the center console and took McCree’s hand, his heart settling in his chest when he found it waiting for him, and did not think about tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> it's a living ;)


End file.
